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"There you are," a deep voice rumbled, making Arden turn on his heels before he stared into the receding shadows. "I knew you would come looking for me."
"Ezra." Arden glared at the pair of amber eyes that looked out at him. "What the fuck do you want?"
The man clicked his tongue and stepped forward revealing himself. "Is that any way to talk to your big brother?" He grinned and held his arms out. "Come, say hello properly."
Arden stared at the man but didn't move a muscle. Ezra looked the same as he always had. A short crop of mostly gray hair and a salt and pepper beard, muscled forearms that peeked out of his blue button-up, and a pair of dark slacks. They looked alike, everyone always said so back home, and Arden had detested the fact. He’d always denied it, but the truth was that they could practically be twins.
He stood his ground. "What are you doing here?"
Ezra's arms slowly dropped and the cheerful smile on his face disappeared immediately. It was his brother's greatest trick, appearing friendly and upbeat when he was just as big a monster as Arden.
"I've come to take you home."
Arden's brow shot up and he crossed his arms over the massive expanse of his chest. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Ezra scoffed. "I'm talking about returning you home and to the throne where you belong. Mother’s getting older and it’s time to take some responsibility. For your people. For your kingdom.”
Crinkling his nose, Arden took a step back. "That's why you called me?” He huffed. "You're the oldest. Why don't you take care of it?"
A dark cloud descended on Ezra's face and his mouth twitched. "We both know I can’t do that. To take the throne, you have to be able to reproduce.” Ezra grinned, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Afraid I’m shooting nothing but blanks. I’m not fit to be king.”
Shivers ran down Arden's spine. Fucking Havenwood. Dragons were so slow to change that they couldn’t see how utterly behind the times they were. Ezra wanted the throne, why shouldn’t he have it? Especially when Arden wanted nothing to do with it. He dropped his arms, his fists tightening as he stared at his brother.
"I'm not going back," he said sternly. "Whatever problem you and Mother have is your problem. Not mine." He shook his head. "I told you a long time ago that I was done. No more wars, no more blood, no more death and no more goddamned throne."
Ezra rolled his eyes. "You were so into all of that when we were younger," he pointed out. "What changed? Did you lose your nerve?"
Arden's mouth flattened into a straight line. "I don't want to talk about that."
"You never do," Ezra said, his shoulders lifting and dropping as he began to pace. "But you can't escape your responsibility forever. We've waited long enough for you to blow off some steam and return home. Now is the time."
No way in hell.
Arden would rather die than to return to the place that had stripped him of his last bits of humanity. Once upon a time, he would have loved nothing more than to die gloriously on the battlefield or take over ruling, but things were different now. Arden had a business, a family, a home. His hosts might drive him insane and the customers were off the walls, but it was the one place he felt like he could truly be free of all the pain and destruction of his past.
Reaching up, he pressed two fingers against his temple, trying to quell the storm inside his head. It raged on, fierce and endless as images from his past flashed by. The smell of mud, rain, and blood filled his nose and Arden reeled.No, he couldn't go back there.He couldn’t do it again.
"I'm not going anywhere," Arden said pointedly as his eyes flickered open and his amber gaze stared into Ezra's. "You might as well tuck your tail between your legs and leave. I'm not done here."
"You are," Ezra said, his amber eyes glowing as flames danced around his fingers.
Arden moved forward as well, not willing to back down. "Do it," he said, bolts of electricity wrapping up his arm as he tightened his fist, "And I will send you back to our Mother a charred corpse."
Their eyes locked and Arden contemplated turning him into ashes, but then he imagined their mother's face. She was a difficult woman, but one he loved all the same. As Ezra lowered his fingers so did Arden and they faced each other, silent, as they took each other in. It was as if they were testing each other without words. One brother stalked the other, but neither was willing to make the first move.
"You know she won't give up," Ezra said finally. "This is your birthright.”
“That’s too bad, because Ididgive all of that up," Arden snapped. "If dragons are meant to fall, they will. It's not my responsibility to save our bloodline."
Ezra frowned, any trace of a smile long gone. "What happened to you, Arden? You used to stand for what was right. You protected your family fiercely. Now you're off playing pimp to a bunch of whores."
Arden blew out a breath, sparks of electricity dancing in the air in front of him. "They're not whores. And you know nothing about what I do." He relaxed and stood up straighter. "Tell Mother I'm sorry, but I won't be flying home."
"More important things?" Ezra called as Arden started to walk away. "What could be more important than your family?"
Arden glanced over his shoulder and he almost stopped. The hurt on Ezra's face was so palpable that it made him ache. Despite their ups and downs, they were brothers. Arden loved him even if he wanted the man to stay far away.
It took everything in Arden to turn back around and keep walking. He had left his past behind many years ago. And if he went back, nothing would stop him from becoming the bloodthirsty bastard he had been before.
